Music
by lrhaboggle
Summary: For as long as she could remember, Rosemary could hear things that no one else could... The story behind Jonas' predecessor.


For as long as she could remember, Rosemary could hear things that no one else could. Strange yet wonderful sounds floated around her head and she couldn't control when it happened. Sometimes, the sounds sounded human and sometimes they did not. Even so, she loved these strange noises because they could fill her with these _feelings_ that she never thought would be possible. Sometimes, the feelings she got when these mysterious noises echoed around her head were so complex and foreign that the usual simple "happy, "sad," "scared", or "angry" were not enough to describe it. It was actually quite thrilling. In addition, the sounds could be quite enjoyable to hear and she would find herself craving to hear the noises again after they had fallen silent. In fact, sometimes even under the cover of night and bed sheet, Rosemary would try to mimic these noises herself and replicate what she heard in her head into her reality.

But despite her fascination with these unknown noises, Rosemary also feared them. She knew the nobody else could hear the noises and she knew that such a difference could be dangerous to her peaceful Community. Because of that, there were moments when she wished that the sounds would stop and leave her forever. That way, she wouldn't feel so tempted to talk about them. She instinctively knew that this was something she couldn't just go around blabbing about no matter how much she wanted to. Rosemary could never bring herself to confess these problems even if it would've been the right thing to do for the Community just because she didn't want Chief Elder to do something to her that might make these sounds stop. Though they did cause her grief sometimes, the overwhelming joy they usual brought her made it all worth it. Because of that, these strange and unexplainable noises in her head became her little secret.

Finally, when Rosemary turned 16, she and the other people in her age group were given a ceremony where they would receive their full jobs in the Community's work force. She already knew what her job would be, though. She was to be the new Receiver of Memory. She knew this because her father was the current Receiver of Memory and this was a hereditary job. Now, she looked nothing like him, being tall, thin, and dark-haired while he was short, sturdy, and light-haired, yet they both had the same strange eyes. They were paler than everybody else's. Those eyes not only tied Rosemary to her father, but to the post of Receiver of Memory…

Sure enough, at the end of the ceremony, Rosemary was made new Receiver of Memory.

"If I'm the new Receiver of Memory, what does that make you?" Rosemary joked as she and her father walked home after the ceremony.

"Giver," he replied fondly. He loved Rosemary so much. She nodded in agreement to his new name and skipped ahead of them to their tiny home at the edge of the Community. Rosemary was eager to start training. She knew all about it, but since it was against the rules to start early, she had been kept hanging until now. She couldn't wait to finally know about this wonderful world her father would describe to her in bedtime story.

"Calm down, Rosemary," Giver teased as Rosemary dragged him to their training spot and thrust her arms at him.  
"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "But I can't wait to finally see all the things you've seen! I mean, I know you've told me about them before, I can't wait to actually get to see them myself!" she added, looking absolutely ecstatic. Despite her obvious joy, Giver's own face contorted into something akin to guilt, grief, fear and…pain? Rosemary lowered her arms slightly. Had she said something wrong? Before she could ask, though, Giver had shaken his head and grabbed her forearms…

When Rosemary could see again, she was in somebody else's dwelling. All was quiet for about five seconds until a strange noise filled the air. Rosemary felt her heart jump as she realized it was the same sound that had filled her dreams with beauty and fear for so long. She followed the sound eagerly and saw a beautiful girl with pale hair about her age. That girl was sitting at a strange device that looked like a tilted table (how odd!) and she was hitting pale blocks on that device. As she hit them, the noises would come and she would open her mouth at times and noises came from her too. The sounds from both objects fit beautifully together. Then words flashed through her head. _Music. Piano. Music. Singing. Music._

"Music," Rosemary breathed. Even the word sounded lovely. Her first memory had definitely been a keeper.

From then on, although Rosemary saw many more beautiful things, nothing could compare to the music. Oh, the music! The wonderful music! Rosemary loved her father and she loved all the memories he gave her, but her favorites were always the music memories. She requested those the most often and even after training was over, she would try and go back to them, drawing them up from the recesses in her mind in order to rewatch and relive them over and over again. She continued to visit these places and listen to this music until she could perform it too. It didn't take long at all for her to learn several simple songs of old and she began to play them back, from memory, on her father's piano. That's right, they had a piano! Though of course, until that first memory, she had never understood what it was or what it did.

"If only I'd known what this was earlier!" Rosemary cried as she hit the pale keys in delight. She was a true musician and she loved every note!

But sadly, this beauty did not last. Instead, Giver began to explain the darker side of the memories. He told Rosemary about how they'd been stolen from the Community by the Elders and they needed a way to be restored. Then he admitted why.

"There are things that the Community makes us do," Giver whispered in a secret way that scared Rosemary. "If we all had memories again, we'd know that these things are wrong and we could fight them. That's why I need you to help me restore the memories!" he said.

"Of course I'll help, Daddy!" Rosemary replied. It was a scary thought, defying the Community, but Rosemary had since learned to trust her father above anyone else, even her own self. Because of that, if he said that this was something that needed to be done, then it was something that needed to be done. If the Community needed to see these memories to better themselves as people, then Rosemary would help her father get them to see. So together, for the next couple of weeks, the pair planned frantically, trying to find some way to restore the memories to their people. In the back of her mind, as foolish as it sounded, Rosemary couldn't wait for her friends to get to see and hear the memories too. That way, she would finally be able to share the music with _everyone_ and maybe they could even make new music together! It was something she'd wanted for a long time and with her father's schemes, this dream just might end up a reality! She couldn't wait!

But even so, Rosemary's desire to right the wrongs and share music with the world couldn't carry her through Giver's treacherous plans.

"Don't protect me!" Rosemary cried when she learned that there were still secrets her father was hiding. How could it be that, even now, he wasn't telling her everything? Weren't they a father-daughter duo? Hadn't they promised never to hide anything and to always be with each other? They were each other's most trusted companions! Why was Giver still holding things back? They were pretty far into their treacherous plans anyway so it wasn't like Rosemary was innocent anymore.

"Be patient," he shot back. He wanted dearly to tell her everything, but he knew such a foolish choice could jeopardize their delicate task. She honestly just wasn't ready for what he had in store and that was the end of it. But she just didn't understand because she didn't know what she didn't know. Perhaps if she had, she might've been more willing to wait and she would've understood that her father wasn't just trying to save her life, he was trying to save her sanity.

"No!" Rosemary interrupted in all of her teenage arrogance. "Don't show me a map and then not give me all of the memories!" she continued to badger him as they almost began to chase each other around the tiny home. As Giver continued to try and get his ambitious daughter to understand how waiting was necessary, even though it hurt, she continued to try and counter-argue everything he said. She just didn't understand and it would lead to her own downfall. Her constant pestering finally paid off and, as reluctant as he was, her father showed her the truth.

"Show me," she demanded, voice stronger and harder than it had ever been before, especially with him. She shoved her forearms into his hands.

"Fine," he finally surrendered, voice low and rough as he obeyed her request after so very long. He finally gave her that one missing piece he was still withholding from her: the darkness within humanity. Although he had told her over and over again about how some memories had to be returned to the Community for the sake of the Community, he had never actually shown her which memories he meant and somehow, she knew he meant something other than music, concerts, light, and color. Now at last, her theory was being proved correct.

Rosemary found herself in a dark and dirty dwelling. She recoiled in disgust and horror at the ramshackle appearance of the place. It looked nothing like all the other dwellings she'd seen so far in memories. What frightened her most of all, however, was not the decrepit nature of the dwelling itself. Instead, it was of the family inside. Rosemary could see a father, mother and daughter. But they all looked so weak and sick and scrawny! Rosemary had never seen such dirty or despairing faces. She could feel pure sadness and fear radiating off them in waves. She took a step forward towards them, even though she knew they couldn't see her, but she hadn't taken more than that step when there was a knock at the door. The father turned to the mother and daughter with a pained expression and Rosemary watched the mother shake her head with a sob, clutching the little girl closer to her body. What was going on? The father wiped his eyes and reluctantly opened the door.

"Child protective services," the man on the other side of the door replied. His voice was cold and crisp, just like his uniform. Rosemary felt a wave of sickness and dread wash over her body even though nothing particularly wrong had happened yet.

"Why're you here?" the father growled, voice low and raspy. Rosemary couldn't help but notice how it almost sounded a bit like her own father.

"We're here for the child," the CPS man replied, cocking his head past the father and Rosemary right to the little girl.

"Oh, no…" Rosemary covered her mouth in horror as she began to understand. Although she still didn't fully know what was happening, she knew that this man had come to take the little girl away from her parents. Behind her, the mother and daughter said the same thing, though with far more raw pain. It terrified Rosemary and she instinctively cupped her ears, but she could still hear every pleading word.

"Oh, no!" the mother sobbed. "Please, sir, don't do this! We aren't bad parents, you see? We're just struggling financially! But we're trying our best to take good care of her. Shouldn't that count for something? Please, sir, don't do this!" she broke down crying, still hugging the little girl. Although Rosemary could not see the child's face, she could hear the cries of fear and that was enough.

"Yeah, look, man, we ain't got nothing for you," the father growled, already trying to close the door. But the CPS man caught the door and pushed it back open with a firm shake of his head.

"I am sorry, _sir_ , but this child is severely underfed and under-clothed and I am bound by law to take her in, to take her some place where she'll receive _proper_ care…" the man said slowly, cruelly.

"Proper care?!" everyone, including Rosemary, cried out in unison. Then both parents began protesting wildly about how they'd done the best they could with what they had and, by that virtue, they ought to be allowed to keep their daughter. They weren't mistreating her out of cruelty or neglect! In fact, what little they did manage to make always went to her, but that was not enough to sway the CPS man from his task. He strode calmly into the dwelling, an eerie contrast from the terrified family who was still screaming and crying.

"No, get away! GET AWAY!" the mother howled, clawing at the man when he came too close. He calmly disregarded the injury she gave him and came even closer, reaching for the little girl. The moment his hand touched her, she went wild, thrashing and screaming her lungs out. Rosemary's heart and ears bled from the terrified, horrified cries and she, fruitlessly, tried to force the man off of the child. Ultimately, as many times as she tried and cried and screamed, it failed and the child was taken away. The door slammed shut as the memory ended and the child's cries became severely muffled. The screams of her parents, however, were louder than ever before as they fell to their knees together, already mourning the child that they probably would never see again.

"No, no, no! Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!" Rosemary joined the family in their grieving. She fell to the ground and began to scream and cry. She had cried before, but never like this. She had felt sad before, but never like this. This wasn't just sadness, this was _anguish_. It was exactly what she'd asked for… Rosemary finally understood what her father meant about the memories, but by then, something had broken inside of her and it would not be repaired.

At last, the memory was blessedly ended, but it still was not over. Instead, despite being back safe and sound in the arms of her father, Rosemary could still hear the family's dying screams echoing faintly from across time, back and back and back.

"Why would they do that?! Didn't they see they were hurting her? Didn't they know that was wrong?" she was sobbing sharply as she clung to her father's shirt, tears falling hard enough to quickly soak a good portion of it. Giver only held her tightly, tears burning his own eyes, both grieving for what he had done to his daughter and for the anguish he felt on behalf of the other bereaved parents he had in his memory. Rosemary continued to scream and cry for awhile more, still asking how anyone could be so disinclined to someone else's suffering, but in the back of her mind, she already knew. The cruel indifference of the CPS man mirrored the total blindness and apathy of Rosemary's own Community. She went to bed, haunted by the little girl's screams for her mommy and daddy. It was the first time something other than music had followed her into her dreams.

Following that, Rosemary held on for a couple weeks more. The light left her eyes after that first day though. Giver tried to console her with good and happy memories once more, but it was too late. What Rosemary had seen could not be unseen and that was enough. That was enough to taint every memory she ever saw thereafter. It broke her, ruined her. She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. She didn't laugh anymore. Rosemary felt empty, broken, and lost. Even music had lost part of its magic.

But slowly, she found a new side to music. She realized that notes could express what nothing else could. She realized that music wasn't only for innocent pleasures as she used to believe. She began to realize that music could be used to convey deeper meaning and feeling and that it could be used for something more than just fun. For that, Rosemary began to write. It was the first time she'd ever composed instead of covered. She wrote songs of pain that were mixed with hope and one of her favorites was a wordless tune. It was a short ditty, but as she played it over and over, it filled her with the hope and despair of the world for generations back and back and back.

Rosemary finally set aside one day to teach her father the little ditty she wrote. She was very gentle and loving with him as he struggled to learn the piano and memorize the tune, but the light in her eyes was no longer there. Oh, it filled her heart with joy when he was able to play it perfectly thrice in succession, but that joy was tinged with pain, sorrow, regret, and shame. All she could think, while listening him tap out the keys with the tenderness so obvious in his mannerism, was that she was going to miss him.

"Please," she whispered to him, too quiet for him to hear. "Don't forget about me and don't stop singing," she knew he'd need this song in the coming years. Somehow, he'd finish his job. Rosemary just wasn't going to be the one to help him. She wasn't strong enough. She knew that now. It hurt her to leave him, but it had to be done and, somehow, he would be ok in the end.

The next day, Rosemary applied for Release.

"When you see something like that, you can't just go back to normal," she sighed bitterly as her father's desperate pleas followed her out.

"Rosemary! Promise you'll come back tomorrow!" he cried. "Rosemary!" he continued to call her name and Rosemary couldn't help but notice how similar he sounded to the parents in the memory of the lost child. Rosemary thought of nothing else all the way back to the dwelling of Chief Elder where she put in her request for release and was sent off to the hospital to have it done.

"I'll do it," she told the man with the syringe. He seemed surprised, but he didn't dare defy Receiver of Memory. Instead, he gave her the needle, bowed, and left the room. Rosemary sighed bitterly as she eyed the little thing. _Release? More like execution._ Once again, the despair at how broken the world really was surrounded Rosemary from all sides. She was a girl who felt too much in a world that felt too little. For that, she was able to easily insert the needle in her skin and leave this cruel world behind.

"I apologize, Daddy. I couldn't be strong enough for you," she whispered as she felt the cold medicine surge through her body. Poison. As she now knew. It disgusted her. How could she ever had thought that Release was something good or humane? But she could do nothing now. Instead, she surrendered her life to Elsewhere. Death, as she now knew.

But even after her world went dark, Rosemary could still hear. Oh, the irony. But wait! What she heard was music. Her music. The little ditty that she wrote for her father just a few days ago. And it sounded like her father was singing it. There was another voice too, singing along. It was an unfamiliar one. Suddenly, then, the name flashed through her mind. _Jonas_. Some boy named Jonas was humming her tune and somehow, she knew he'd need that tune in the future. He would carry it with him as a symbol of strength.

"Jonas," Rosemary breathed. "Don't stop singing," and finally, Rosemary heard only silence.

Years later, Jonas limped through the barren plains with baby Gabriel tied to his back. As the cold night fell and Gabriel began to cry again, Jonas sighed heavily. He unstrapped the baby from his back and sat them both down.

"Hey there, Gabe," Jonas cooed over Gabriel's tears. "Everything's gonna be ok," he whispered. He caressed Gabriel for a time when suddenly, somewhere in the back of his mind, an old song pushed its way out. He began to hum the little tune over and over again until he had lulled the little baby to sleep. Gabriel snuggled up closer to him as he finally stopped humming the little tune.

"Thank you, Rosemary," he murmured as he remembered where that tune had come from. It had come from Giver who had said, in turn, that it came to him from his own daughter and last apprentice: Rosemary. "Thank you, Rosemary," he repeated. It almost felt like she was there with him, hugging him in the same way he was hugging little Gabriel. It was like she was with him as a guardian angel, carrying him through to finish her father's work. Then, through the wind that whistled along the moonlit plains, Jonas thought he heard a woman's voice.

"Jonas. Don't stop singing."

But perhaps it was only an echo.

 **AN: This combines book and movie elements of Rosemary's time as Receiver of Memory and follows the idea that Rosemary knew Giver was her father and that he was allowed to raise her. I understand that, according to the book, Receivers would have to keep their training secret even from any family they decided to start, but I wanted to write this story as though Rosemary knew who Giver was in relation to her and that he had raised her, telling her about good memories as bedtime stories.**


End file.
